“No, he paid in cash. He’s paid up to the end of the month.” She noticed the desperation in Eliana’s face. “I’m sorry, signorina. I would help if I could. He just came and went. Sometimes men do that.”

In the street Eliana hailed another cab and directed it to the Uffizi. They stopped in the courtyard and she ran out, past the crowds to the man standing guard at the entrance.

“Excuse me, signore, I need to speak with one of your tour guides. It’s very important.”

“There are many tour guides, signorina. You will have to make a reservation inside. Do you have a reservation number?”

“I’m looking for someone in particular. Ross Story.”

The man’s expression lightened. “Ross.”

“You know Ross?”

“Sì. Only Ross doesn’t work here anymore. He has left Florence.”

“Did he say where he might be going?”

“No, signora.” He parted the rope. “You ask inside. There’s an office past the gift shop.”

“Thank you.” She went inside, found the office and knocked. Patrizia answered the door.

“May I help you?”

“Mi scusi. I’m looking for a man who used to work here. His name is Ross Story.”

“Ross has left.”

“I know. Did he leave a forwarding address?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Maybe a bank number.” The woman continued shaking her head. “No, I’m sorry.”

“Anything?” she asked desperately.

“I’m sorry, signorina.”

“But you must have some record of him.”

“No, Ross was an abusivo.”

“An abusivo?”

“It means that he did not have a permit from the Comune to work here. He helped out Francesca, one of our tour guides. They had an arrangement. I think she must have his cell phone number.”

Eliana frowned. “I’ve tried that.”

“I was sad to see Ross go. I liked him. Maybe Francesca can help you. She is here; would you like me to ask?”

Eliana nodded.

Patrizia left the room. She returned a few minutes later. “If you can wait for twenty minutes, Francesca will speak with you. She is leading a tour right now.”

“I’ll wait. Grazie.”

“I was just leaving. You can wait in here if you like. Please shut the door behind you when you go.”

“Grazie.”

The woman finished gathering her things. “Buona fortuna.”

Eliana breathed in deeply. There was hope. Ross had mentioned Francesca. They were close. This woman would know something about his whereabouts. Wouldn’t she? She paced the quiet office until a half hour later there was a light knock and the door opened. Francesca walked in.

“I am Francesca,” she said in coarse English.

Eliana spoke back in Italian. “Buona sera. I am Eliana Ferrini. I am looking for a friend of mine.”

“Sì. Ross.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“No, signorina. Ross left Florence yesterday.”

“Did he tell you where he might be going?”